


Never Alone

by Zenith_Lux



Series: Through the Ashes [9]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Flash Fiction, Poetry, mentions of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-16 12:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21508108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenith_Lux/pseuds/Zenith_Lux
Summary: The darkness of his past never really left him, no matter how far he goes or how little he remembers it. The nightmares are always there, threatening in the weakest moments of his life to tear Vergil apart. But there are those who will never let him fall.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Through the Ashes [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1477619
Kudos: 14





	Never Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This story just sort of... happened today. First flash fiction (under 1k words too) that I've ever done. Different style than normal so... but I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> This will (probably) be the last one before the next "mini series" (Like Solitude and Solidarity but a bit longer), so I hope ya'll enjoy ^^
> 
> Also, Poem is Divine Image by William Blake.

It is dark.

So very dark.

He never used to be afraid of it, even as a child. In fact, he often found solace in it. The dark meant no distractions. A chance to reflect. Sometimes, he’d curl up in a corner with nothing but a book and a flashlight; peaceful and alone. 

But that darkness had been limitless. He was just as bound to it as it was him. He might have even called it comforting. This darkness- this void of nothing in his mind and no sight to comfort him - is painful. Stifling. Too tight. Too rigid. The armor pressing down on his skin is suffocating him every second it remains. 

With every breath he takes, the small remainder of his humanity wonders if it will be his last. 

But what right does he have to think such things? He is a human with no heart. A demon with no name. He is nothing but a piece in someone else’s game. 

His lungs scream for air. His mind, even through its haze, begs for something, or someone, to save him.

What good would that do? No one is coming. No one will ever come for him.

He is no one. Nothing but a suit of armor clinging to some ragged body that will never be the same. 

_To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love_   
_All pray in their distress;_   
_And to these virtues of delight_ _  
_ Return their thankfulness.

That voice…

It was familiar, but not. A man he thought he knew, but not his tormentor. _What do you want?_ He tries to say. No words come out. 

He can’t breathe.

Can’t think.

Even his desperation is slipping away.

_I’m nothing._

_For Mercy has a human heart,_   
_Pity a human face,_   
_And Love, the human form divine,_   
_And Peace, the human dress._   
  
What is the point of this? His humanity is lost. Ripped from him over and over again. 

The armor is too tight.

Suffocating.

He might wish for death, it if it hadn't eluded him all these years. 

_Then every man, of every clime,_ _  
_ _That prays in his distress,_

 _Enough._ The remnants of his human self pleads to no one. The last of his breath rushes from him. The armor clenches tighter, digging deep into his skin. A name that is not his own is muttered somewhere in the distance. And he has no choice but to follow. But to listen. To do what he is told. 

“Come on boss.” Another voice says. It’s accent is heavy, and while he recognizes it, he, once again, cannot pinpoint who its from. “Wake up already.”

Wake up? He is awake. He can feel it. He is…

“Princess sent me here.” The voice said. “Couldn’t reach you herself.”

 _Princess?_ He knew that title. Knew the one that used it. Knew the one the voice spoke of. 

“You ain’t gonna let her down now, right?”

Two flames flicker before his eyes; one gold, one blue. A second later, the blue bursts, blinding him. Screams of others- some he recognizes, and some he does not - echo all around him. His knees try to buckle, but the armor holds him up.

“Just remember already!” The voice says, annoyed. He swore he heard wings flapping somewhere close by. “Tomorrow’s a busy day! And I ain’t carrying her sorry butt around if you drain all of her energy for this.”

A part of him understands. A flicker of memory breaks through the haze. A black and blue bird. A panther. Another him. A woman. Their names prickle his tongue, but never quite make it out.

The gold flame waits in the chaos. 

Waits for him. 

_Prays to the human form divine,_ _  
_ _Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace._

The armor begins to melt. 

Air rushes into his lungs. 

_Griffon._

The voice snorts. “About time.”

He reaches out. For what he isn’t sure. But he feels the armor slipping away. Hears the chunks clatter on the ground. A low purr echoes at his feet. _Shadow._ The panther’s tail flicks in satisfaction. But it isn’t enough. They aren’t enough. He keeps reaching for that flame. 

_“I’m here.”_ Her voice whispers in his head. _“Come back to me, Vergil. It’ll be alright.”_

His hand wraps around the flame…

Vergil’s eyes snap open, but a weight on his chest keeps him pinned to the bed. A smaller version of Shadow, purring against his heart. He lays his head back on the pillow and stares at the ceiling. _Home._ He thinks. _Safe._ He hears the ruffle of feathers somewhere on the edge of the bed, but the bird remains quiet. Asleep? Maybe.

_Alive._

It takes him a minute to feel the woman curled up beside him. His shifts his arm a bit beneath her, satisfied when some feeling returns to his fingertips. Asleep, Ashira shifts forward, nuzzling his chest. Her fingers relax, leaving behind deep wrinkles from clutching his shirt so tightly. He listens for her heartbeat, relieved when it slows to its usual pace. 

_Free._

His eyes flicker to the window where V sits, flicking through their favorite poetry book. He doesn’t meet Vergil’s gaze, but the latter doesn’t miss the smile on his other self’s face. “I was reading to her.” He said simply, flicking to another page. 

“Convenient.” 

V chuckles, but says nothing. Vergil lets his head roll back into the pillows and closes his eyes. This time, there is no sensation of the armor suffocating him. No loss of memories or himself. Nothing but two heartbeats and a soft purr lulling him back to a welcome and peaceful sleep.

His nightmares may never go away. 

But he’s not alone.

Never again. 

_Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,_ _  
_ _There You are dwelling too._


End file.
